


We Could Fly ('Cause We All Have Wings)

by Wyrd_Syster



Series: Two Worlds Collided [2]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Break Up, Eudora is good with first aid, F/M, Fluff and Angst, How did Diego get the scar above his eye?, Hurt/Comfort, well now we know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-18
Updated: 2019-03-24
Packaged: 2019-11-24 02:55:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18160559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wyrd_Syster/pseuds/Wyrd_Syster
Summary: Eudora looked good in a uniform, he mused belatedly, blinking through the oncoming headache. In the all-black attire of a beat-cop, gun aimed cooly at his chest, she looked positively lethal, and if Diego’s head had been in the right place, he would’ve been able to appreciate the very fine figure she cut.Still, any hopes Diego had that his domino mask would do just a little to protect him from this moment were lost when Eudora gave a small yelp of surprise.“Diego?” she gasped. “You’re the masked idiot who’s been running around all over the city?”.OR.Eudora and Diego's first meeting after their break-up probably could've gone better, but it definitely could've gone worse.





	1. The Good (the Bad)

**Author's Note:**

> Back, back, back again!
> 
> I am blown away by how kind the response to the first fic was! My muse for this is still going strong, and I'm excited for you all to read this one.
> 
> This is a shorter (maybe?) two-parter to detail some of the on-again, off-again Diego and Eudora relationship vibes. 
> 
> Note, this is still before Vanya wrote her book. I have an entire idea for that one.

 

When Diego had drunkenly stormed out of Eudora Patch’s apartment that night over a year ago, he told himself it was done and he wouldn’t spare her another thought. 

He told himself he had just been distracted by her soft smile and long legs to see her for what she truly was--complacent. Someone who professed to want to enact change but was more than happy to just serve as a cog in a machine. She would be a good cop, maybe a better-than-average detective, but at the end of the day, she and her ilk wouldn’t be able to really stop the systemic problems of this city.

So, Diego left. Bitter, angry, and broken hearted. And suddenly, the life he was building for himself began to crumble.

Reginald hadn’t been pleased when Diego had set off from the Academy at seventeen, but when he learned of his plans to become a cop, he was downright livid.

“Number Two! What is the meaning of this?” Reginald had demanded. 

Diego was sitting in the kitchen with Mom, excited to tell her the news of his acceptance into the police academy. He had initially come home to discuss with Pogo logistics of borrowing some money for a small apartment near the school, but then Mom had bustled in, all smiles and warmth and ushered him down to the kitchen so she could make him lunch.

“I thought you might be happy,” Diego had mumbled. Mom had stopped cooking, glancing between Reginald and Diego with an uncertain smile. “I’ll still be helping people. Just, won’t be wearing a mask.”

“Helping people? Is that what you think you’ll be accomplishing as a policeman?” Reginald asked. “Wasting your talents with fat-fingered coffee-guzzlers? Running around playing with guns? Locking up junkies and petty car-thieves?”

“It’s something, at least!” No matter how old Diego was, how strong he was, something about Reginald’s cold stare and gruff demeanor always made him feel like a boy. A small, stuttering boy.

“Now, now…” Mom cautioned, her smile looking anxious. Behind her, the grilled cheese she had been frying up was starting to burn.

“Wrong!” Reginald said. “It’s worse than something! It’s a waste of time. You’ll only be getting in the way of real heroes, heroes like Number One.” He took a deep breath. “Now, if you actually care about doing good, you will return home at once and resume your training--”

“I don’t think so,” Diego said. He stood up and walked over to Mom, cutting off the burner to the ruined pan of grilled cheese and kissed her on the cheek.

“I gotta go, Mom,” he said softly. “I’ll see you later, okay?”

“Diego, you haven’t even had your lunch yet,” Mom admonished with a smile. “At least let me fix you a to-go plate.”

“No, no to-go plates, Grace,” Reginald snapped. “If Number Two won’t fulfill his obligations to this house, then he will receive  _ nothing _ from this house. Is that clear?”

Diego stepped around the table to face his father head on. “Save your breath, old man. I don’t need anything from you. Not anymore.”

Of course, that hadn’t been strictly true. As soon as Diego had left, he had doubled-back to catch Pogo. The police academy wasn’t free, and he had no formal schooling to apply for a scholarship, no bank account for a loan. Shit, he wasn’t even sure if he had a social security card.

He and Pogo struck a deal. Pogo would make sure Diego’s tuition was paid for and provide a small stipend for his living expenses, so long as Diego stayed out of trouble.

Three months in the academy and he couldn’t even handle that.

He knew Pogo wouldn’t cut him off (at least, he  _ hoped _ ), but Diego was proud, too proud to keep taking his family’s money without earning it.

But apparently it was easier to have pride sitting at your kitchen table. It was a little harder when you spent a week living out of your car.

It was only luck that he stumbled across Al’s. The “wanted” sign taped to the window had sun spots on it, like it had been left up for too long.

“Can’t pay you too much,” Al had groused, walking Diego around the space, pointing out things that needed fixing. “And being a janitor at a boxing gym isn’t exactly the most glamorous life, I’ll warn you.”

“Yeah, not really into glamor myself, actually,” Diego mused, looking around.

Down the hall, Al showed him a backroom that hadn’t been organized or cleaned in decades. It was a gordian knot of hoarding and broken equipment.

“Tell you what,” Diego said. “I’ll take half of what you’re offering, clear out this room here, and in return you let me stay here? What do you say to having a live-in janitor?”

Al had fixed him with a steely look. “You’re one of those Umbrella people, aren’t you?” he asked, indicating the tattoo on Diego’s wrist that was just visible under his sleeves.

“I was,” Diego answered, stiffly. “Not anymore.”

Finally, he said, “Well then, guess you got yourself a deal.”

From there, things started to pick up. Diego found he liked the gym, liked the way it felt. The boxers didn’t give a fuck that he was a Hargreeves, only that he could hold his own in the ring (and make sure all the blood splatters were bleached away before the next morning). Al mostly left him alone, letting him turn the back room into his own space.

It was comforting, having this space where he could be Diego. Not Number Two, not a cadet, not a bully of a brother, or a disappointment of a son, or a failed lover. Just him, just Diego.

And once things started settling, Diego’s real work could begin.

Fake badges, police scanners, a new domino mask, and a brand-new knife harness had only cost him in total one paycheck. Being a vigilante? Well, that cost him a bit more. Hidden deep in the shadows, swathed in black leather, Diego prowled the streets at night, the soft lull of the scanner his only company. 

In the beginning, he was shocked by how easy this whole thing was. Calls came in, and the cops took their sweet-ass time to get together and head off. For each robbery or assault call that was reported, Diego figured he had a good twenty minute lead on any responding officers. That was plenty of time to catch the creeps responsible, make them pay, and disappear before the flashing red and blue lights caught him.

Of course, that was in the beginning.

As the months wore on, Diego’s double life began catching up with him.

He was slower to rise in the mornings, often missing his dawn jogs. He took more hits in the boxing ring, distracted out of pure exhaustion. The gym floors often remained dirty. 

And on the streets, Diego was slowing down. He was still going after bad guys, stopping them before they could hurt anyone else, but he wasn’t necessarily good about stopping them from hurting  _ him _ .

\---

It was two jewelry store robbers that nearly took him down, two Neanderthalic oafs built like fucking trucks. It finally took a knife to the knee to incapacitated one, and three knives to pin the other down before the fight was all over. And by that time, Diego had already had his face nearly beaten in (nose was bleeding but didn’t feel broken, lip was split, cut over his left eye was bleeding profusely, making it hard to see….)

He was woozy, quite possibly concussed, and he could barely tell the pitch black sky from the dark alley ground when the police car arrived on the scene.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he groaned. He started stumbling down the alley, turned the corner, looking for a place to hide when--

“ _ Hold it right there, asshole! _ ”

He stopped. He was most definitely concussed because he recognized that voice and, oh, the universe couldn’t be that cruel.

“Put your hands on the back of your head and turn around,  _ slowly _ !”

The universe wasn’t just cruel, it was a stone cold bitch.

Still, Diego did as he was told, placing his hands behind his head and trying to affect a lazy stance as he turned around, but failing miserably as his head lanced with pain and the walls around his seemed to wobble.

Eudora looked good in a uniform, he mused belatedly, blinking through the oncoming headache. In the all-black attire of a beat-cop, gun aimed cooly at his chest, she looked positively lethal, and if Diego’s head had been in the right place, he would’ve been able to appreciate the very fine figure she cut.

Still, any hopes Diego had that his domino mask would do just a  _ little _ to protect him from this moment were lost when Eudora gave a small yelp of surprise. 

“Diego?” she gasped. “ _ You’re _ the masked idiot who’s been running around all over the city?”

Diego couldn’t help but grin, feeling his lip split even wider. “Good to see you, Eudora,” he said. She still hadn’t lowered her weapon but in all honesty, he kind of liked that.

“Are you  _ absolutely _ fucking  _ kidding _ me?” She hissed, finally lowering her weapon. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Well, I was trying to avoid this awkward interaction right here,” Diego said. Fuck, he could feel blood pooling under his tongue, but if he spit right now Eudora might shoot him and he may deserve it. “But before that I was catching those two trolls back there and leaving them ready and waiting for pick-up. You’re welcome, by the way.”

“Give me one reason not to arrest you right now,” Eudora said, angrily.  

He has a retort, a  _ good  _ one too, and he took a step forward to deliver it, but the world seemed to tilt sideways and he suddenly lost his footing. 

“Diego?  _ Diego! _ ”

“I’m fine! I’m fine.  _ Fuck _ ,” he grasped at the wall to his side, fingers sliding uselessly on the mortar. His stomach heaved and he turned his head and vomited, spitting out blood and bile.

“You need to go to the emergency room.” Eudora had dropped to help him as he stumbled, her hands pressed against his shoulders, grounding him until the world righted itself.

“Nope, no doctors, doctors are no good,” Diego gasped, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and trying to stand again.

“Patch, everything alright back there?” came a yell from around the corner, where the two oafs lay.

“Fuck, it’s my partner,” Eudora muttered. Then, louder, “All good, Beeman! Be right over!”

“Please don’t send me to the hospital,” Diego begged, climbing his way back up to standing. “Please Eudora, I just need to sleep this off and I’ll patch myself up in the morning.”

He was dazed and pain was starting to blossom through his body, but still, Diego recognized the moment Eudora had made the decision.

“Do you remember where I hid my spare key?”

“Yes--top of your door frame.”

“Good. Wait for me there.”

With that, Eudora turned around and walked back towards Diego’s crime scene. “Just a sleeping drunk, Beaman. Had to shake him a few times to even get him up, I don’t think he saw anything.”

Diego didn’t spare the scene a second thought. Pushing himself off the wall, he started stumbling towards the far exit of the alley, trying to remember where exactly Eudora lived, hoping he didn’t pass out on the way there. That would’ve truly been the perfect way for this whole evening to end.

\-----

Diego got into Eudora’s apartment with no problem and took in the scene before him. 

A half-drunk cup of tea still sitting next to the sink, a pile of dog-eared paperbacks strewn on the low counter separating the kitchen space from the living room. Reminders written in Dora’s scratchy cursive haphazardly held to the refrigerator door with magnets. Not much had changed since he had been here, but the ghosts of their last fight haunted him from the moment he stepped through the door.

For a few, shining weeks, this place had been like a home for him. His own shit-hole apartment had been featureless and devoid of any creature comforts, but this apartment had emenated something special, a feeling that had made him feel relaxed. Although, if that was the space itself or the woman who lived here, who was to say? 

With a groan, Diego kicked off his boots and collapsed on Eudora’s couch. He was too exhausted and dizzy to even bother cleaning up first, too burdened with happy memories turning sour on his tongue.

By the time the key turned in the lock, signaling Eudora’s return, Diego was drifting in and out of sleep.

“Good, you’re here,” Eudora said, spotting Diego sprawled on her couch. She dropped her coat unceremoniously on the floor and hurried to the kitchen. 

Not turning his head, Diego heard rustling, cabinet doors opening and closing, the water running. Dim light from the kitchen spilled out into the living room where he lay. 

Something about having another warm body occupying the same space, one he could trust  _ implicitly _ , made his chest warm. The simple domesticity of this moment made everything to him seem soft. He wanted to bottle this feeling and keep it with him forever, and his eyes started fluttering shut, his mind drifting into quietness.

“I need you to sit up a little for me.” Eudora had somehow slipped back beside him, unnoticed. She was sitting at his feet, a first-aid kit open on the coffee table next to a bowl of water and some rags.

With a grunt, Diego pushed himself up slowly, waves of nausea and pain ricocheting across his skull. 

Eudora  _ tsked _ , taking in Diego’s face. She wet a washcloth and pressed it to the cut above his eye. He hissed in pain, the hot water and the pressure making his vision whiteout.

“Sorry!” she murmured. She soaked the washcloth in more water and used more care as she gently started wiping at his cut. She swiped at his face slowly, cleaning off the sweat and blood that had dried on his cheeks.

Eudora’s eyes were wide with concern, but her fingers were soothing against his skin. Focusing on her face, the room stopped spinning and he slowly grounded himself, the only sounds were the gentle  _ drip _ and  _ slosh _ of the washcloth being dipped in water and her slow, steady breath. 

Despite himself, Diego began relaxing under her ministrations, sighing softly. Nothing seemed to matter beyond this couch. 

“Did they get you anywhere else?” Eudora asked after a time. She was digging through her first-aid kit and produced a butterfly suture. “For your eye,” she said. Then, “It’s probably going to scar. Sorry about that.”

“I like a good scar,” Diego said, shifting closer so Eudora could close the wound. “Makes me look even more irresistible and dangerous.”

“Makes you look something, alright,” Eudora agreed with a soft smile. She gestured to his chest. “Any major hits?”

“Officer Patch, are you trying to get me to strip for you?” Diego laughed. 

Eudora shot him a pained look and he felt the resounding twinge in his chest. 

“No, they were pretty focused on my face. And really, could you blame them?” His attempt at a wolfish grin was ruined as it pulled his split lip even wider, causing him to gasp in pain.

“Diego, what were you thinking?” Eudora asked. “You really could’ve gotten yourself killed out there.” She had produced a pen light from the kit and was shining it in his eyes, testing his pupil dilation.

“I was thinking ‘someone’s gotta catch these robbers, and I don’t see any police here to do it,’” Diego said, licking the new drops of blood from his lip. “What’s the verdict, doc?”

“Dilation isn’t great but it’s not horrible,” Eudora said, putting the light away. “Mild concussion at best, nothing a few hours of sleep won’t cure.”

Diego settled back down against the couch, bracing himself for what he knew was going to be a long conversation. But Eudora surprised him by standing up, collecting the first-aid kit and the bowl of water and bringing them back towards the kitchen.

“You need to rest. Stay here tonight, we can talk more in the morning.” She brought him a glass of water and pulled the throw blanket from the back of the couch to his lap. She wouldn’t meet his gaze.

Diego’s countenance softened. “Thank you, Eudora,” he said.

She glanced at him quickly and nodded. “Goodnight, Diego.” She left, turning off the lights with her.

Diego was alone in the cool darkness of the living room, sinking slowly into sleep, thinking absurdly about a conversation Klaus once had with him about resurrecting ghosts. The trick, Klaus had told him, was that you have to name them first before you can set them free, change their energy. But what if the energy changed first? Did you have to name it, or could you just soldier on and hope for a better outcome tomorrow?

He was fast asleep before he decided on the answer.

\---

When Diego awoke the following day it was nearly dinnertime, and Eudora was waiting. If he had been hoping that the previous night had  exorcised  the ghosts of their failed relationship, he was wrong, and the ensuing fight went exactly as expected. 

Vigilantism would get him killed. Her efforts on the police force weren’t nearly enough to protect people. He was a holier-than-thou asshole with no concept of how the system actually worked. She was a stuck-up pencil-pusher who put too much loyalty in regulation. 

The fight felt similar to their last one in everything but name. The same harsh barbs, the name calling, the palpable pain beating like a living heart between them. But this time, when the shouting reached a crescendo, Eudora pulled Diego towards her and kissed him, hard. 

The ghosts weren’t gone, and they hadn’t been named. But the energy had changed, just a little. And, just like that, impossibly, the vigilante boxer-slash-janitor was secretly dating the police officer.

“It sounds like something out of a dime-store romance novel,” Diego had said, slowly stroking Eudora’s arm. This was weeks into the relationship, when everything still felt good and light.

“Hopefully with a better ending,” Eudora had sighed sleepily against his chest.

It did not.


	2. And The Ugly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He realized, that morning, that Eudora could be it for him. She could be the one. And when she woke up, blinking blearily at him, her face open and kind, her lips soft on his, he understood what it was like to look at a person and see a future.
> 
> And when she left, a goodbye kiss lingering between them with a promise of a tomorrow bright and hopeful in the morning sun, a cold blanket of fear and doubt settled on Diego’s shoulders. So, of course, he did what he did best. He ruined it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is un-beta'd so all mistakes are semi-intentional.

The relationship didn’t stay a secret nearly as long as either of them had hoped. And, even though it was all Diego’s fault, he refused to take the blame.

“I am  _ not _ your ‘get out of jail free’ card, Diego!” Eudora had yelled at him from the safety of his car. She was driving, too furious to sit motionless in the passenger seat. Unfortunately, she was a bad driver on the best of days and now, distracted, was weaving in and out of traffic in a pattern that was sure to get them a ticket.

“What did you want me to do? Spend the night in a cell?” Diego has asked, rubbing his wrists where the handcuffs had cut into his skin. “Would you slow down a little? No need to wreck my car.”

“Well, maybe you deserved it!” Eudora seethed. “And this is slow!” She punctuated that by revving the engine just a tiny bit faster. 

Diego, gripping the handle above his window, privately admitting that he could not remember the last time he had been this unsettled around his girlfriend.

He had been arrested for impersonating a police officer, using a two-dollar plastic badge from an old Halloween costume. Eudora hadn’t been the arresting officer, but she had just returned for the precinct when he had been booked.

“Patch, there’s a bit of a situation with a perp we just brought in,” Donnelly had said, meeting her at the door and walking with her towards her temporarily assigned desk in the bullpen.

“What’s the problem? Too much for your guys to handle?”

“No, he’s behaving like a saint,” Donnelly said slowly. “It’s just that…well….”

“Well what?” Eudora asked, impatiently. It had been a long night, she just wanted to get home, and she had five missed calls on her desk phone. Well, six now, as the phone lit up again.

“He keeps using his supposedly one phone call to reach his girlfriend at work,” Donnelly said, sounding pained. “And it’s just that, well, it’s  _ your _ phone that keeps ringing…”

She was gone in a flash, rushing towards the holding cell. When she burst through the door, there was--

“Aw, babe, you came!”

Her soon-to-be ex-boyfriend, Diego Hargreeves.

\----

They didn’t end up breaking up that night, and yes, Eudora had pleaded with the captain to get the charges dropped, but things were rocky between them.

It did finally take two more close calls and another arrest for Eudora to break-up with Diego.

“You’re unbelievable,” she had snapped at him through the bars of the holding cell.

“Yeah, well, back ‘atcha, babe,” Diego had said. He was sporting a new black eye and a bloody nose. Neither had been inflicted by Eudora, but at that moment,  _ oh _ how she wished she had been the one to throw the punches.

“There was a sting operation in motion that you single-handedly ruined,” Eudora informed him. “We would’ve had enough evidence to put this pervert away for life. But, leave it to you ruin  _ everything _ . Now, he’s walking and we have nothing to hold him on.”

Diego, for his part, looked guilty. “Fuck, Dora, I’m sorry,” he said. “Just let me explain--”

“Absolutely not,” she said, turning her back on him and leaving him in his cell.

When Diego was released from custody forty-eight hours later, he was given a bag of his belongings by the officer, most of which he had not had on his possession when he was booked.

The note on the bag read-- _ It’s not going to work. I’m sorry.  _

He wasn’t exactly surprised.

\----

She was sure he had given her the wrong address as a joke. Eudora was learning slowly the length Diego could go to be cruel, and she wouldn’t put it past him to leave her his direct line and address (“just for emergencies,” he had said, sticking the little post-it to her fridge) and have it only go to some seedy looking boxing gym at the edge of town.

It was dark outside, well into the night. She should be heading home. In fact, her captain had told her as much.

“Go home, Patch,” he had said, not unkindly. “Get some rest. This is going to be a tough one and we need you at the top of your game.”

But she hadn’t gone home. Instead, she had gone directly to the address she had memorized off that little post-it she still hadn’t removed from her fridge and was now standing outside, alone, wondering if she had been played a fool.

Through the double pane-glass doors, Eudora could see a few lights on inside, and the wisp of a singular shadow bouncing off the walls. Steeling herself, she walked towards the entrance and pushed her way inside without even knocking.

“We’re closed!” Diego called, his back towards the door. He was in a tank top and a loose pair of jeans, mopping at the back corner of the gym. Eudora could hear the grainy hum of a police scanner echoing off the walls.

“Hey, didn’t you hear me? We’re...Eudora?”

“Hey,” she said. She suddenly felt so stupid for being here. 

“Hey,” he said, walking towards her, slowly. “What’s happened? Are you okay?”

She had imagined he would be pissed when he saw her, and he would have every right to be. She hadn’t even had the courage to say goodbye, just sent him his things in a brown bag with an “I’m sorry” scribbled across the front. She expected him to hate her.

But, when she looked in his face, all she saw was worry and concern, his lovely, dark eyes trained on her without a sliver of anger or doubt.  _ This _ was the Diego she cherished, the one who was open and big-hearted and ready to put himself aside and jump into action for someone else. This was the Diego she was hoping to find, and the realization that he was here, paired with the truly horrific night she had just had, caught up with her all at once.

Despite every effort not to, Eudora sat down on the outside of the boxing ring, covered her face with her hands, and started crying.

“Shit, Dora-- _ Dora _ !” Diego’s arms were around her in a moment, cradling her head against his shoulder. “What’s happening? What’s wrong?”

He felt so familiar, wrapped around her. The weight of his arms on her shoulders, the prickle of his stubble on her cheeks, his smell and warmth enveloping her. Even the way he said her name--it felt like no time had passed since their last morning together months ago. 

“C-case,” she finally got out, tears slowing. “Found a...god it’s so horrible….” Saying it out loud would make it real again. But, behind her eyelids she still saw every horrible detail. “Found a girl. My sister’s age. Ran away from home. Didn’t make it back. And...and she  _ looked _ like my sister...and I know, I  _ know _ I’m just saying that because they’re the same age, and the family dynamic was similar, but god, Diego, she was just  _ mad _ and she  _ ran away _ and it’s a dumb teenage fantasy that’s supposed to end with a  _ grounding _ not with police officers finding your body at the side of the road and…” She took a deep, shuddering breath and buried her head further into Diego’s shoulder.

“Hey, Dora, hey look at me.”

His thumbs swiped at the tears gathering on her cheeks as his lovely, dark eyes searched her face. “Dora, what do you need?”

She gave a watery laugh. “You can’t help with this case, Diego, there’s too much--”

“I’m not asking about the case,” Diego interrupted. His gaze was intense, the feeling of his fingers brushing against her skin was warming her from the inside out.  “Eudora,  _ what do you need _ ?”

She knew she could say it without judgement, here in this little bubble of just the two of them. “You,” she whispered. “Please, Diego…” 

He pressed forward, silencing her with his mouth against hers. She moaned at the feel of his tongue against her lips, and she pulled him tighter against her.

Diego broke away suddenly and pulled her to her feet. “I’m not about to fuck you here,” he murmured in her ear. “I know the guy who cleans this, and he does a shit job at it.”

She gave a watery laugh and let Diego grab her hand and pull her down the hall. If she was surprised to find his private room in the back of the building, she didn’t let on.

But once in the room, Diego pressed her against the door, kissing her fiercely. Before she could respond, he pulled back, looking suddenly concerned.

“You sure you want this, Dora?” he whispered, his eyes trained on hers. He stroked a hand through her hair, pushing it back from her face.

“Yes,” she breathed.

His lips quirked and he kissed her softly. “You tell me to stop when it’s too much, okay?”   
  
“I trust you, Diego,” she said. And she meant it. She trusted him. Trusted him to understand what she needed, to bring her to the edge, to hold her as she fell over, and over, and over again. 

He was hard with her, demanding. His voice was gentle but his hands were rough. The pain and the pleasure melted together in a way that had her babbling and holding loosely onto the strings of her sanity. But when she reached her absolute limit--pushed to the very edge--Diego was right there with her, and knowing that made her feel impossibly safe and sated in his arms.

\----

In the golden light of the early dawn streaming through Diego’s one window, Eudora shone like gold.  She was still asleep, exhausted from their night together, strewn gracelessly across his chest, with sunlight glowing off her bare shoulders.

Diego traced his fingers up and down her arm, mesmerized by the softness of her skin, comforted by the weight of her against him. His chest was full and warm, a feeling he didn’t quite have the courage to name making his heart beat in staccatoed jumps in his throat.

They could make it work, couldn’t they? If they ignored the shit from the world around them and just focused on  _ this _ , on  _ them _ , it could be so easy. 

Diego focused on the dust motes swirling in the beams of sunlight, on the way the air seemed to quiet and dance in this space of his, cocooning them in something weightless. There wasn’t a person alive that he felt so right with, that he felt this  _ fit _ .

He realized, that morning, that Eudora could be it for him. She could be the one. And when she woke up, blinking blearily at him, her face open and kind, her lips soft on his, he understood what it was like to look at a person and see a future.

And when she left, a goodbye kiss lingering between them with a promise of a tomorrow bright and hopeful in the morning sun, a cold blanket of fear and doubt settled on Diego’s shoulders. So, of course, he did what he did best. He ruined it.

\---

“When will you learn, Diego, that this is not your place?” Eudora was standing on one side of his room in the boxing gym, shaking with rage.

Diego, for his part, was just as furious. His eyes were black and the blood on his chin made him look dangerous. “Someone has to step up and do something if the police of this city refuse to get their fucking noses dirty!” He shouted at her.

“Fuck you!” Eudora shouted back. “We may be slow but at least we get shit done! We get convictions! We build cases for sentencing! What do you do besides taking out your childhood trauma on some two-bit perp!?”

“ _ Don’t fucking psych me out, Eudora, _ ” Diego seethed. “ _ You’re not a fucking therapist _ .”

“Well, maybe you should get one!” She shouted. “Or do you think playing pretend hero every night in a fucking mask is normal?”

“Nothing about this shit is normal,” Diego snapped. “And I’m not playing pretend! I get results!”

“No, you get in everyone’s way! You cause a department-wide headache, and make it ten times more difficult to close a case!” Eudora snapped back. “You’re acting like a  _ child,  _ you get people  _ hurt _ , and you don’t seem to care that real peoples’ lives are at risk!”

“Fuck you, Eudora, I care when people get hurt,” Diego said, hotly. “Why would I be out there every night if I didn’t care?”

“To get attention! To get praise! To try to get your dad to be proud of you for once!” 

Everything between them stopped. Diego looked like he had been slapped in the face. He recoiled back a few steps, and his eyes shuttered blank, his jaw tensing. 

Eudora couldn’t take the words back now, even if she tried. She took a deep breath, trying to center herself.  “Look, Diego, I know you just want to help people. I get it. But, there are other ways to do it, without the mask.” 

“And I don’t know any of them, Eudora,” Diego said coldly. “This is all I can do. And if you can’t understand that--”

“It’s me or the mask, Diego,” Eudora said in a flat voice. “Because I can’t sit around anymore and let you get in the way of me and my job.”

“The mask, then,” Diego answered. They stared at each other, only a few feet separating them, and an ocean of hurt in between. “Are we done here, Eudora?”

“We’re done,” Eudora said. She turned to leave, stomping up the stairs to the door. “Try to stay out of everyone’s way, Diego. Especially mine.”

“Yeah, well, try and keep that nose of yours clean,” Diego shot back. “Would hate for you to ruin your perfect record with a little mess.”

Eudora slammed the door behind her, silencing Diego. She resisted the urge to give it a few good kicks before she left, deciding that it wasn’t worth ruining her shoes over.

\---

“You wanted to see me, sir?”

Eudora was testy today. Her uniform was sitting oddly on her shoulders, tight and scratchy. Her low bun was too tight, causing a tension to bloom under her ears and a headache to pound mercilessly behind her eyes.

“Ah yes, Officer Patch, please come in,” the captain said. 

He was a kind man, if stern. He reminded Eudora a bit of her Uncle, the one who had inspired her to join the force. They even sort of looked alike, if you squinted, and Eudora, embarrassingly, found herself desperate for his approval. Thankfully, her track record spoke for itself so it wasn’t hard to earn, but she often felt herself on the precipice of losing it, of being on the receiving end of a disapproving stare. And she wasn’t so sure she could handle that, not today at least.

“Is something the matter, sir?” Eudora asked, closing the door behind her.

The captain looked pained. “Patch, I know it’s not really my place to get involved in the lives of my officers, but word around the precinct is that you’re, uh, an acquaintance of that vigilante, Hargreeves.”

“Hargreeves and I trained in the academy together before he was expelled, sir,” Eudora said. Apprehension had sunk into her stomach like a stone. “Is there something the matter? Sir?”

“Well, he’s in holding again, I’ve noticed…”

“He contaminated a crime scene, intimidated a witness and stole evidence,” Eudora replied, testily before remembering to add, “sir.”

“It’s just that, Officer Patch, it looks like you’ve been the arresting officer on a number of his previous arrests.”   
  
“I have,” Eudora said.

“Patch, you’re a good officer, and you’re going to make a helluva detective one day,” the captain said. Eudora felt her chest swell with pride, which was only made her shatter harder when he continued, “But, if you don’t learn to leave your personal affairs out of the workplace, it’ll ruin your career.”

“I...I understand, sir,” Eudora said. 

“Do you?”

Eudora felt small under his reproving gaze. Like a little girl playing dress-up. Fuck, she could even feel the tears start to rise in the back of her throat.

“Diego Hargreeves will not continue to distract me, sir, I promise.”

“Good,” the captain said, looking relieved that this conversation was over. “You’re dismissed.”

Eudora left his office, head held high, trying to remember the quickest way out of the bullpen to the private bathrooms on the third floor so she could go collect herself when one of the new recruits spotted her. Maybe the conversation she’d just had was plastered all over her face, maybe her relationship to Diego had been less on the down-low than she had hoped, but the it seemed everyone in the bullpen was looking at her, and knew exactly what had just happened.

“Hey Patch!” the new recruit hollered. “Your ex causing problems again? Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to shit where you eat?”

Eudora stopped in her tracks and looked over at the recruit. He was surrounded by his buddies, his face young and line-free. A bully in the making.

She marched over to him. “You want to say that again?”

The recruit grinned, obviously pleased at the rise he had gotten out of her. “I’m just saying, Patch, if you really had a hard-on for these felon types, there are probably smarter ones to fuck than Harg--”

She punched him square in the face, feeling his nose break under her fist. 

The recruit was transferred to a new station outside the city, and Eudora was suspended for three weeks, no pay.

If Diego knew what had happened, he didn’t let on. After their last break-up, she had sent him a message and asked that he not contact her again until she was ready to talk. So, besides for the arrests and barbs thrown at each other at crime scenes, they hadn’t said a word to each other in eight months.

It would be another six months before they spoke again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of the things I wanted to focus on in this chapter is Eudora's anger. When she's first introduced in the show, she tases her ex in the chest. She readily insults the motel employee. Eudora may want to do the best, and try very hard to see the best in people, but she has her limits, and I think those limits are fun to explore.
> 
> To me, this marks the end of their traditional relationship--the last time they're truly 'romantic partners'. I figure they're about 23 years old here.
> 
> Follow me on Tumblr at @Wyrd-Syster

**Author's Note:**

> I'm fully a sucker for hurt/comfort.
> 
> Follow me on tumblr @wyrd-syster


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